


The Chances We Take

by TheMightyFlynn



Series: New Year's Countdown [10]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drunken Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 12:44:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13190346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMightyFlynn/pseuds/TheMightyFlynn
Summary: When Ron arrives on Draco's doorstep, he finds himself with a choice to make.





	The Chances We Take

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my_thestral](https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_thestral/gifts).



> Written for the [New Year's Countdown](http://newyearcntdown.livejournal.com) on livejournal.  
> Based off the prompt: It was going to be the most god-awful Christmas ever... until the knock on the door came and an unexpected visitor showed up, even more miserable than him - and everyone knows misery loves company.
> 
> my_thestral, I hope you like this, my dear! And yes, I have an idea for a sequel in mind. :)

_DRACO MALFOY IN DIVORCE SCANDAL!_  
WEALTHY RECLUSE KICKS WIFE TO THE CURB!  
MALFOY’S EX MARRIES FAMOUS QUIDDITCH STAR!  
GET THE EXCLUSIVE HERE, ONLY IN THE DAILY PROPHET! 

Draco sighed as he threw the newspapers into the fire. His own scowling face burned in the orange flames, glaring until it was consumed by the flames completely. The truth of the matter was that he and Astoria had parted amicably a year ago when she had found herself a man who was actually interested in her sexually. Their marriage had only ever been one of convenience, not that the _Prophet_ knew that. He let out another sigh as he glanced around the room.

The living room of his house was not overly large, as the ones in the Manor had been, but it was serviceable. By mutual agreement, he and Astoria had bequeathed all of Scorpius’ inheritance to him the day he turned twenty-one. This meant that Draco, after the separation and subsequent divorce, had had to find another place to live, as the Manor belonged to the current Head of the Malfoy Estate. Not that he regretted giving the Manor and everything that came along with it up; he had never truly wanted the responsibility that came along with the title, anyway. Leaning back against the soft cushions of his lounge, he closed his eyes.

This was the very first Christmas he was to spend alone. Tori had her new husband, Blaise was jet setting with wife number seven, Pansy had shacked up with an Italian Quidditch player back in September and hadn’t been heard from since; even Scorpius was off somewhere with his new girl. Or, at least, Draco assumed this latest one was female. One could never tell with Scorpius. A soft _pop_ beside him caused him to crack an eye open.

“Tea, Sir.”

Pippy, Draco’s newly-hired house-elf, deposited a silver service on the coffee table beside him. When Draco cocked an eyebrow at her, she bowed deeply.

“Pippy knows Sir is not ordering tea, but it is very cold outside, Sir. Pippy is only thinking of Sir’s health.”

The house-elf disappeared with a squeak when Draco’s eyebrows drew down. These new house-elves were nothing like the ones he had grown up with. They were the first generation of house-elf who had been born free, not ‘belonging’ to any particular family. He now knew that that was a good thing; that no species should be enslaved. But, really, them taking pity on him was a bit much. Yes, he was spending Christmas Eve alone, but he wasn’t _that_ much of a lost cause, was he? Pippy re-entered the room just as Draco was pouring himself a strong cup of tea.

“Would Sir like dinner now?”

Draco considered not responding, he really did. But, he _was_ actually hungry. He placed his teacup down on the saucer gently and opened his mouth, but was interrupted by a loud banging on the front door. He sighed.

“Wait here, Pippy,” he commanded.

Moving out into the hall, he braced himself for the shock of cold air that would hit as soon as he opened the door. The banging sounded again just as he placed his hand on the doorhandle.

“Al _right_ ,” Draco muttered as he unlatched the door and swung it open. “Ye– Hey!”

He staggered as he was practically shoved aside by a body that was significantly taller than he. The _whoosh_ of freezing air – accompanied by a flurry of snow – that blew into the hall had him scowling. Shoving against the now wide-open door, he managed to shut it after a few seconds of struggling against the wind. Draco pulled his wand out of its holster as he marched back into his living room.

“What the _fuck_ do you think you are doing?”

Crouching down in front of the fire, his long limbs curled into a tight ball, was Ronald Weasley. Fat snow flakes sat in his bright orange hair – which was going slowly grey, Draco noticed with a certain amount of delight – and covered the shoulders of the cloak he hadn’t bothered to shed.

“There’s a fucking blizzard out there, Malfoy!”

Draco could tell that Weasley’s teeth were clenched simply from the way he spoke. “I do not care that there is a blizzard out there, Weasley. What I care about is discovering why you are barging into my house on Christmas Eve as though you own the bloody place?”

He held his wand clenched in his fingers, but still at his side. His eyes were fixed on the back of Weasley’s head which, he noticed, was not covered with a hat of any kind. He then took the time to take a proper look at him.

He wore jeans and a pair of boots that clearly were not weatherproof. The cloak that was wrapped around his shoulders, while obviously once expensive, had seen many years of wear. Draco’s eyes narrowed.

“ _Weasley_ ,” he began, but was interrupted.

“I got caught out in it and your place was the closest I knew of.”

Unable to help it, Draco sighed. “You are a _wizard_ , Weasley. You can Apparate.”

There was a small pause as Weasley shivered before the fire. He rubbed his hands together and blew on them before shrugging.

“Nowhere to go.”

Draco’s wand hand twitched. “Excuse me?”

Weasley sighed. “Where would I go?”

“Home. _Your_ home.”

Weasley gave a bitter-sounding laugh. “So, the news hasn’t hit out here, then? Hermione kicked me out two days ago. It’s all over the papers.”

Draco stood and stared, watching Weasley curled before the fireplace. There was no indication in his body language that he was lying; no twitch of his shoulders, or evasiveness in his gaze. In fact, he merely sat there, watching Draco as Draco watched him.

“She kicked you out?” Draco started forward, his brows drawing down. “Why is this my probl–”

He halted when he was hit with a wave of alcohol fumes. His eyes shut and his nasal passages closed seemingly in self-defence as the smell burned down his throat. Draco let out a small cough as he backed off a few steps.

“You are _drunk_.”

“Am not.” Weasley had the hide to actually look insulted. “I’ve had a couple at the Leaky, but I’m not drunk.”

Unable to prevent it, Draco rolled his eyes. Considering this new information, he now figured that it was entirely possible that Weasley had simply missed his mark when he had Apparated from the pub. Although, where he could have been heading around this area, Draco had no idea: the Weasley family home was all the way over in Ottery St. Catchpole. Pressing his lips together, he let out a sigh through his nose.

“You need food.”

Weasley’s eyes lit up. “I could eat, yeah.”

Draco gave instructions to Pippy, who was still waiting patiently by his chair. He kept an eye on Weasley while they waited, trying to work out just what was actually going on. If Granger really had kicked him out, then there was no reason he should be all the way out in Wiltshire. His own family home would have made more sense for him to have gotten himself off to, or to Islington, where Potter was living in the old Black house. Wiltshire was so far from anything and any _one_ Weasley knew that it simply made no sense. Unless he was looking for something in particular…

“Dinner is served, Sir.”

Draco shook his head to clear it. Scowling down at Weasley, he folded his arms over his chest.

“Come on, then.”

Weasley didn’t stagger or anything as he followed Pippy into the small dining room across the hall. Draco was watching him closely enough to be able to tell if he had. Pippy seated Weasley in front of the small fire she had lit before bowing to Draco and disappearing with a barely audible pop.

“So,” Weasley began through a mouthful of fish a minute later. “Ashtoria booted you to the curb ash well, huh? Shaw it in the paper today.”

Disgust rolled through Draco as Weasley slurped the fish. He kept his gaze on his plate, not wanting to know whether Weasley was spitting the food as well.

“Tori and I split a little over a year ago when she began to feel seriously about Alistair.”

“Wait, you _knew_ she was cheating on you?”

Draco’s brows drew down again as he shot Weasley a stern look. “As I am gay and therefore completely uninterested in women, I would expect nothing less from her. She is an intelligent, attractive woman with needs of her own, after all.”

A strange glint entered Weasley’s eyes as Draco spoke. He leant forward, his food forgotten. Jabbing his fork forward, he grinned.

“I _knew_ there was something the papers had missed! No one gives up a woman like that easily!”

Thankful that Weasley had taken the time to swallow his mouthful of food, Draco inclined his head. “Indeed. Not many people know about myself, though, so I would appreciate it if you would keep it quiet.”

They were silent for another few minutes. Draco simply enjoyed the feeling of warm contentment that washed through him as he ate. He had been expecting to spend the night on his own, so to have someone there with him was… Well, he couldn’t quite bring himself to call Weasley’s presence in his home _nice_ , but it did make him feel less alone. The thought occurred to him that it was at least a little pathetic that he was feeling comforted by Ronald Weasley’s company, but he pushed it aside for the time being.

“Why hide it?”

Draco froze, his cutlery hovering over his plate. “Excuse me?”

Weasley cleared his throat. “Why hide that you’re gay? I mean, it’s not like it’s unacceptable. We’re not living in the seventeen hundreds, so you won’t be stoned, or anything like that. Hugo and Scorpius have proven that really well.”

A small smile tugged at the corner of Draco’s lips at the reminder that both of their sons had caused very little stir by coming out in the papers when they were both just out of school. Not that Scorpius had managed to hide it very well, he considered. The boy had had flings with anyone willing to take him once he’d reached legal age. Men, women… Draco would be surprised to find out that Scorp _hadn’t_ tried it on with a humanoid creature, to be honest.

“What’s so funny?”

Draco glanced up to see Weasley watching him, a curious look on his face. His eyes were bright and wide, confirming Draco’s suspicion that he had had more than ‘a couple’ at the Leaky. Reaching for his wine – Weasley had been supplied with Butterbeer – he took a small sip.

“Scorpius was so disappointed when he told Tori and I that he was bisexual. It was like he was expecting a huge debacle to erupt.”

Weasley grinned. “Hugo sat me and Hermione down and told us, very seriously, that he was gay.” He shook his head. “He actually looked concerned, almost like he thought that we’d be angry. Honestly, when we told him that we were just happy that he was able to grow up happy, he looked disappointed!”

Draco smiled into his glass as he took another small sip. “It’s like they forget what _we_ went through at their age.”

“ _Good_.”

There was such fierceness in that one word, but Draco could completely understand it. He nodded. Yes, it was good that they forgot things like that. It meant that they had never had to deal with anything like it and, hopefully, never would. Draco glanced up as Weasley grabbed the glass of Butterbeer and took a swig.

“You know, Butterbeer and fish? They really don’t go well together.”

Unable to help it, Draco let out a chuckle. “Well, I couldn’t have you getting drunker, could I?”

Weasley sighed. “I keep telling you, I’m _not_ drunk.”

Raising an eyebrow, Draco shot him a disbelieving look. “What would you call it, then?”

It took a while for Weasley to respond, as he had crammed more fish into his mouth while Draco spoke. It was a struggle for Draco to not stare, although why he was so fascinated in watching Weasley as he ate, he had no idea.

“Happy.”

Draco blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I’d call me _happy_.” He nodded emphatically, as though to prove his point. “Look, I know what the papers will say about me. I _know_ that they will side with Hermione no matter what. So, for the moment, I’d call me happy.”

As if Draco had needed further proof of Weasley’s drunken state. He let out a soft sigh as he placed his cutlery down on his plate.

“I think I will firecall your mother – or maybe even Potter – to come get you.”

Pushing away from the table, Draco had to wonder why this had not occurred to him earlier. Of course, that thought was immediately followed by what was probably the truth: he was lonely. It was Christmas Eve and Ronald Weasley was the only company he had besides his hired house-elf. A small, sad laugh escaped him as he entered the living room to place the call.

“Wait.”

Draco paused, more out of habit than any wish to actually not continue on with his plan. Turning, he raised an eyebrow in question.

“Yes?”

Weasley’s eyes were brighter than ever, and they bored right into Draco. “I didn’t get caught out in that blizzard.”

“What?” Confusion rushed through Draco, followed immediately by annoyance. “What are you on about now?”

Weasley strode into the room, his steps determined. “I didn’t get caught out in the blizzard,” he repeated as he stopped right in front of Draco, close enough to touch. “I came here looking for you.”

Draco immediately shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous–”

“I’m not,” Weasley insisted, taking another small step forward. “I came here looking for you. I… Well…”

Weasley let out a gusty sigh, a look of frustration crossing his face. It didn’t last long, though. Stepping forward, he grabbed Draco by the collar and dragged him into a rough kiss. Draco let out a surprised sound and pulled away. He opened his mouth to protest, but Weasley interrupted him again. Raising one hand, he backed off.

“I know, I know, alright? I know _exactly_ what you are going to say. I’m married. I’m drunk. I’m on the rebound from my marriage falling apart. I _know_. But, the thing is…” He shrugged. “I don’t care. I came out here looking for you; for _you_ specifically.”

Draco stood and stared at him when he finished speaking. A strange range of emotions washed through him, so jumbled that he couldn’t sort through them.

“Me?”

“Yes.”

A whole series of questions rushed through Draco’s mind, but only one fought its way to the surface. “ _Why_?”

“You fascinate me. Always have, and probably always will.”

Draco swallowed against a strange feeling welling up inside him. Frowning, he took a step forwards.

“I–”

“Wait, don’t. Look, I know I sprung this whole thing on you so suddenly that you don’t believe me. Hell, you probably wouldn’t have believed me even if I tried to court you with the old traditions. But, look… Can you just promise me something?”

Draco had no idea what made him nod his head.

“One chance. Once everything is settled and the press has died down, promise me you will give me a chance.”

Draco frowned, the strange feeling building inside him. “At what?”

“Anything. Everything.” Weasley shrugged again. “At the moment, I will take whatever you’re willing to give me.”

The strange sensation building inside Draco reached a point where he had to shake his hands out, trying to release some of the tension there. This was complete madness, he knew. Ronald Weasley was standing in front of him, half sloshed, asking him for… What? Friendship? No, that was far from right. _A chance_. He had to admit, it was an intriguing prospect, even if he had no idea what it meant.

“A chance.”

“Just one. If I fuck it up in any way, feel free to just tell me to bugger off.”

“Just one.”

Draco paused. Tilting his head to the side, he considered the idea. Pros and cons rushed through his mind at a speed that almost made him dizzy. It was one prospect that decided him, though: if he agreed to this, he would no longer be lonely. He took a deep breath against the rise of the strange sensation in his chest again.

“Alright.”

“Now, look, before you refuse… What?”

Draco couldn’t help the smile he gave when Weasley almost stuttered to a stop. “Alright, Weasley. One chance. I do not believe that this will go anywhere, especially after you sober up, but I will agree to give you one chance.”

“Oh.” Weasley stared at Draco for a few seconds, just blinking. “Oh.”

Amusement flooded through Draco, causing his lips to curve into an unwilling smile. “Is that all?”

“Um… Yeah, yeah, I think so.” Weasley frowned. “I’ll uh… I’ll just be going, then, right?”

A proper smile broke on Draco’s face as he realised that he had wrong-footed Weasley. “If you wish.”

He stepped aside, allowing Weasley access to the floo. When Weasley looked at him again, there was colour high on his cheeks, and Draco knew that it wasn’t caused by the alcohol.

“I’ll see you around, then.”

Draco smiled politely as he handed Weasley the floo powder. “Apparently so.”

He stood and stared at the fireplace for a long while after Weasley had left. _One chance_. He highly doubted that this would come to anything, but it would be an interesting journey. Draco smiled as he made his way slowly back into the dining room. The warmth surrounding him made it seem as though he was no longer quite as lonely as he had been at the start of the night.


End file.
